


We Feel You

by Lalalascivious



Series: The "Feel" Series [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Ghosts, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, ghost!Jean, ghost!Petra
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-04 01:25:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1761753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lalalascivious/pseuds/Lalalascivious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just moving into a new place and starting a new job is tough. It definitely wouldn't be easier if the place were haunted. Let's not even get into having to try to date people with a moody ghost in your apartment. Let's especially not consider what might happen if the ghost seemed to be into a friend of yours. And the idea of the ghost having an interest in you, too... well, that's right out.<br/>The lives of everyone who's moved into the Sawney Apartments have become just a bit more complicated than they need to be.</p><p>[4/18/2015: This hasn't been abandoned! I just touched up the existing chapters in preparation for my next update. Something has been changed slightly to account for future plotting...]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is part of the overarching series I'm working on, The "Feel" Series. Each individual fic will have its main focus on separate characters/pairings, but each of them are interconnected. "We Feel You" will be specifically centered around Marco's relationships.
> 
> I will link to separate parts of the series in these notes as they are written! (Or just bookmark the series page or subscribe to me!)

When a prospective landlord told us the apartment we were being offered in their building was haunted, I laughed. Not because I didn't really believe in things like ghosts. I mean, it's true that I don't really believe in the supernatural, but that wasn't the main reason. I laughed because I'd had a bit of an impish thought: “Aww, maybe that would be fun!” Apparently that isn't the average reaction to being told this stuff, because my buddy Connie's eyes were bugging out of his head like I had just suggested we should run off and join the circus, while our new landlord was drooling at me like they would become our ringmaster if we did. (I would find out later that is actually a very apt description for one Hanji Zoe, full-time eccentric and part-time landlord. Their full-time job... Well, they wouldn't actually tell anyone what it was for the longest time – it's very hush-hush, they've told us. I mostly only learned of it at all because I once ran into them reading very technical documents in their office. Anyway, it requires such an impressive level of expertise it might surprise you that they spend so much time as a landlord as well. But hey, everyone has hobbies.)

“Marco! Dude, I reeeeally don't think we should mess around with that kind of –”

“Mr. Bodt, that's exactly what I've been saying to my other applicants! And my former tenants! I knew I liked you!” Hanji interrupted, their eyes positively glowing with the promise of my words. They leaned dangerously forward and turned a slightly admonishing look onto my good friend sat in the chair next to me. “Where's your sense of _adventure,_ Mr. Springer?”

Connie shrank back in the plush chair, pushing himself slightly up the armrests and away from their intensity. Okay, even _I_ was getting a little uncomfortable with their closeness at this point. “Uh... My sense of adventure is presently tied up by my sense of self-preservation against killer paranormal creatures?”

I laughed again. “Oh, Connie, I'm sure the ghost just wants friends. All we'll have to do is, you know, be nice to it, maybe have a little chat –” Hanji's look suddenly turned sharp and a bit serious as they sat back and folded their hands beneath their glasses.

“Ghosts.” When I cocked my head in confusion, they clarified, “There's more than one ghost. Your apartment is just the most haunted.” There was a moment of complete silence as Connie and I looked at each other nervously and he slid back down the armrests. If they were saying it _that_ seriously, maybe I _was_ starting to get cold feet – Suddenly, they beamed at us again, and exclaimed, “Uh, which, of course, is why we've got such a big olll' paranormal activity discount! Eheh.” They held out the paperwork and pointed to a line item labeled exactly that, then pointed to the price of rent after the discount. Right. Ohhh, mercy me, if that wasn't a compelling difference. Connie and I exchanged similar looks.

“You, uhh...” Connie began, suddenly interested in negotiating, “you _were_ trying to say that these ghosts are basically harmless, right? So they're not really a big deal?”

“Oh, no, not at all! My last tenants seemed easily spooked. I think they were just exaggerating, or maybe they just wanted a reason to break the lease, because as it says right here,” and they pointed to part of the fine print on the lease, “... paranormal activity will not be grounds for breaking the lease _unless_ it leads to property damage. And between you and me, I swear they broke their stuff themselves, but I'm too nice, and they obviously didn't love the place as much as I do, so I let it go.” They sighed sadly, but afterward, their eyes lit again. “Oh, the place can stay fully-furnished with the kind of high-quality oak furniture you saw in the demo suite, if you want! And fresh mattresses for the beds! That's another reason to sign with us! Uh, but no couch for right now. Anyway, you shouldn't have any problems. Heh. So, you boys interested?”

I was actually beginning to get concerned again, so I asked for the paperwork and promised an answer by the end of the weekend. One look at Connie's eyes as we walked out of the office, though, told me it had already been decided. “Dude. That rent. This location. We saw how modern it looks! And it's furnished, man! That furniture we saw will be ours!” He clamped his hand onto my shoulder. “I know I was the one who was worried about the whole supernatural business before, but you know we're both broke, man. We can't pass this up.”

* * *

Since Connie was right, we signed our lease and set about moving from our dorm to the new place. I called in my good friend Bertholdt to help us out, since I knew he had a car. And, well, not only is he awfully strong himself, but he has a best friend, Reiner, who may be the strongest university student in existence. I bet could probably lift Connie and me on each arm with no trouble. Anyway, the two of them told me they would take care of carrying out the boxes for us if we had them ready, so I finished shoving our TV into the last box as I sent Connie out with some cash to buy everyone Chinese to celebrate. I finished around the time our help showed up, so I took a final nostalgic look around our former room before handing our keys to Bertl (as I call Bertholdt) and catching the bus to the apartment.

… Whoops. As I surveyed our place, I realized I did sort of forget from what Hanji told us that there were no chairs, not even a couch, included for us to sit on and eat at just yet. In fact, there was a conspicuously large empty space in front of the large rectangular coffee table placed strangely off-center in the middle of the room. It seemed like just the spot for a couch. _Was that what Hanji said was missing? But, wait, how does one even manage to break a couch?_ I wasn't sure even a ghost could do that, if they actually existed. (Which I didn't believe, despite my earlier joking.) _Maybe Hanji was right about the tenants doing it themselves somehow._ I guessed we'd never know. It wasn't a big deal, since we could just pick up something cheap off Mariaslist.

I tried the two sets of keys Hanji had given me in the door to the bedroom on the right from the front door. We each had _whole bedrooms to ourselves_. At this price! I grinned to myself as I turned the handle. As I stepped into the room, before I turned on the light, I gasped and took a moment to simply appreciate the light filtering through the blinds in this room. The room was painted and carpeted in dark tones; the carpet must have been a deep royal blue, I thought, from the slivers of lighter blue sparkling across it where the sun hit it. Despite the dark colors, the room didn't feel gloomy, even without the overhead light on. As I flipped the light switch, I found that the walls were partly off-white, partly a deep, warm brown that matched the darker furnishings that had been provided for us. I think they call that 'taupe' or something? I'm definitely no artist. Directly across from the doorway in which I stood was a door painted the same shade of brown as the walls with a full-length mirror in the center. _W_ _e even g_ _e_ _t a closet_ , I thought. Next to the closet was a bookcase, which was a pleasant surprise (I'd had no idea what to do with my books and movies in the dorm), and between that and a naked queen-sized (!) bed was a high-quality computer desk. Against the wall next to me, at the foot of the bed, stood a classy looking dresser with a rounded mirror atop it. Oh, and there was another mirror hanging above what likely used to be a television stand (but Connie and I could only afford the one TV for now).

Somehow, this room already felt like it was mine. It felt peaceful, like an open field, or the ocean, or a clearing in a forest, or, you know, a cave... Okay, okay, maybe that had a bit to do with all the empty floorspace compared to the dorm. _Finally,_ I would once again have enough space for _everything_ I owned, not just _some_ of it. I was pretty certain this was the room I wanted (the other one wouldn't even have a window, right?), but I crossed the living room to the other bedroom and took a look. This windowless room seemed a little smaller, and while the furniture and walls were similar to “my” room, the carpet was an energizing wine red. That felt much more suited to Connie than me, so I would let him have it. This room, too, had a couple mirrors in it. I hummed lightly in thought as I wandered back through the main room into the hall, stopping by the respectable kitchen to check out the glorious refrigerator, finally ending my trek with the very ordinary bathroom. I noticed on the way out that there was even a mirror in the living room. Did everyone have this many in their house? I just used my bathroom mirror growing up... though my parents did have a full-length one in their room they would use to make me try on fancier outfits. Well, it brightened up the rooms a little bit, so it seemed fine. Around then, I heard the front door open, and Connie stepped through it with our food. He set it on the table in the center of the room, then frowned as he noticed our lack of seating.

“Well... Heh, guess we bought food from the right country to be sittin' right on the floor while we eat, huh?” Connie gave a tired grin with his words.

“I think that might be more... Japanese than Chinese. And they use cushions.”

“Aww, whatever, man. I don't even care anymore! I gotta sit down. Had to carry this stuff standing on the bus, since it was super full. All bracing myself to not fall on my ass. My legs are _killing_ me!” He unceremoniously dropped to the floor to sit, then changed his mind and leaned back to lie spread-eagle on our floor. I sat down next to him, one leg out straight, the other bent, curling an arm around my knee. With the other arm, I pressed Connie's set of keys into his hand, then stared at our new ceiling for a while, just settling in. I heard Connie grunt as he shoved the keys in his pocket.

I let Reiner in when he knocked at the door, already carrying two of our boxes. He set them in the corner as Bertl followed him in with a box of his own, then immediately went to grab a couple more boxes from the car. I followed him out as Connie huffed and reluctantly sat up. As we returned, Reiner leading the way with two more impressively heavy boxes, my well-built friend stopped in his tracks.

“Aww, shit!” Reiner suddenly blurted out, quickly setting his boxes in the opposite corner from the first set.

“What is it? You accidentally lock something in our old room?” I leaned my head around the big TV box I was carrying, praying that we hadn't gotten anything important stuck inside the room we'd already given up our keys to. The RAs had probably already gone home for the summer. Ugh. But to my surprise, Reiner gestured to Connie, who was lazily pushing himself off the floor, and grinned out one side of his mouth.

“You shoulda warned me your roommate was hot, man!” Connie's jaw dropped in dismay as he spluttered a bit. Right… it had been so many years since Reiner jokingly hit on me when we first met that I'd completely forgotten how forward he could be. Bertl blushed enough for me and Connie both and retreated out of the room mumbling something about more boxes. Huge, muscly Reiner held out a big hand to my poor, confused, skinny friend. “'Name's Reiner Braun, and my friend – uh –” He'd attempted to gesture with his other hand to Bertl, but the tall, awkward man had already escaped. His expression turned a bit sheepish. “– His name's Bertholdt Hoover. Heh. Marco's friend, so uh, maybe you already met him. Yours?”

Connie stared awkwardly at the proffered hand for a moment, but shook it firmly and grinned back at him. “Connie Springer. But, uh – sorry, I'm not really… you know… interested, man – but – but it's cool, though! Nice to meet you! And thanks a ton for helping us move!”

I relaxed as I realized I wouldn't have to worry about our stuff, and my friends started talking with each other casually as I walked past them into the room. I wound my way around the large table in the middle, heading for the wall across from where our missing couch must have been. I was nearly there when my left foot felt like it hit something, and I suddenly began to trip. I became conscious, suddenly, of the fact that I was holding the most expensive, beloved item in our household in my hands, and I was about to snap it in two if I landed on it! I panicked and managed to swivel myself around into some sort of barrel roll maneuver that ended abruptly when the corner of the table jammed itself hard into my side. “FUC–!” I yelled as the metal edge hit home and my head cracked against the floor.

Reiner was already there tugging the TV out of my hands as I instinctively hissed and rolled away from the table. Hissing turned to groans, which turned to whimpering, which turned to whining as I curled into a ball and tears came to my eyes. I mean, being stabbed that hard by a table corner really, _really_ hurts. I don't encourage you to find out. Reiner pulled my arms away from my torso, lifted my shirt, and gave me a once-over, gently checking my eyes and touching my ribs to make sure I didn't require an ambulance. Thank heavens for friends who've graduated med school.

I don't remember much of the day after that, because I was in too much pain. Really, I may have blocked out _most_ of the time I spent recovering and unpacking (thank goodness I hadn't been scheduled to start work yet). All I know is at some point that day, somebody made me a makeshift ice pack with our refrigerator's icemaker, and somebody must've found the box with my sheets in it, because Reiner (I presume) lifted me onto my new bed with clean sheets beneath me, and then I was out like a light. Nobody could really tell what I'd hit in the first place; guess it was probably the side of the table. Talk about bad luck on your first day in a new house.

* * *

So yeah, I finally stopped having to ice the gigantic bruise my clumsiness had earned myself after about a week. It still made an ugly contrast with the spray of freckles across my hip, but at least it'd healed enough that I could stop rolling around in bed most of the day. Keep in mind, we had neither sofa nor chairs, so the best way for me to get relief was to lie on my side on my bed. I'm not actually a big 'inside' kind of guy, so all I could really entertain myself with was scrolling through Facebook a bit and scouring my bookshelf (kindly stocked for me by Connie, since he felt sorry for me) for something I hadn't read _too_ many times. I actually managed to find something I didn't even remember seeing among my books before... but, I guess that wouldn't have been  _too_ surprising, since my “bookshelf” back at school was more like a book _pile_. That's what eternally being too broke to buy furniture for your dorm will do to you. You get kind of... desperate. Anyway, that's also the story of how I found myself lying in bed reading some awful Harlequin-level romance novel for a week. Never again. How did _that_ end up among my books? I doubt I'd ever have spent _money_ on something like that, although the title was pretty misleading. _I_ swore Connie must've thrown it in there as a prank, but _he_ swore as I joked about it all week that he just put up what was in my boxes. A likely story!

Anyway, all that lying around _had_ given me time to scour Mariaslist for our couch, though. I looked for chairs in case I found a really great deal, but for now we'd only really be able to get a couch with our funds. I managed to find something reasonable though huge enough the owner couldn't deliver it, but they lived a couple blocks over, so it worked out. Connie and I lugged it over to our apartment complex okay, but we had a lot more trouble with the stairs. “Doctor Reiner” had told me to avoid heavy lifting where possible, so I had to be on the top end of the sofa, but Connie is neither especially strong nor an experienced mover. That made ascending the stairs a pretty sluggish process, which would've been fine, except we ran into one of our new neighbors on his way to work. Well, actually, _he_ ran into _us_. As in, directly into the side of our cargo. Connie _might_ have made a rude remark about the neighbor's short stature, and in return our new neighbor  _might_ have looked at the top of Connie's head like he could kill him with his mind, so we made a great first impression! … Yeah, what a way to cap off our first week in the place.

According to Connie, nothing weird had happened that week I was recovering, but once I was up and about again, things started to get a bit strange. Every couple days, something would happen. We had everything set up to watch our first movie with the new sofa, and the microwave turned off in the middle of zapping our popcorn. Okay, not too weird. Maybe it just bugged up. A couple days later, Connie was getting some juice, and the glass fell off the counter and broke while he was putting away the carton. No biggie; I always swear you aren't really living somewhere until you break dishes in it, anyway. But the next day, as I rushed out of the shower buck-naked to answer a call that could've been from my new employer, my bookcase suddenly shook, scattering half its contents across my floor. Or there was the time that Connie sat in his usual place on the couch, then yelped because he found a _fork_ zipped inside the cushion. And so on. Connie seemed to have it worst. We were starting to believe in this whole haunting business, and also getting a bit... annoyed.

* * *

Like I was saying before, I'd had the grades and good fortune (more like good networking skills, if I'm honest) to land a real job in my field just before I'd finished college. I graduated seventh in my department with a B.A. in Applied Linguistics, and found a job at a translation firm with some solid ties to the government. We'd had a month to settle into our new digs (with little money, of course) before I was actually able to start training and getting paid. Connie had landed a new job, too, right after we graduated... as a waiter at the diner where his friend Sasha was the manager. The pay wasn't spectacular, but at least it wasn't too bad that Connie got to hang out with his best friend (I thought at the time they always seemed a bit closer than that) most days he worked, especially since Sasha's got to be the most lenient, excitable supervisor I've ever met. Anyway, once we finally had some income in our pockets (and stuff to sit on), Connie insisted he had to invite some of his old friends from high school to show off our place. I'm always happy to meet new people, so I gladly agreed.

Connie got the door for his friends, and as he began to chatter at one of them excitedly, I stood up and slowly studied the newcomer. I was immediately seared by the most incredible eyes I'd ever seen. They were a shockingly deep teal, visible even halfway across the room, and they practically sparkled as Connie moved onto a topic he must have been passionate about. The rest of his appearance was similarly easy on the eyes – his dark hair slightly messy, his body angular and a bit thin, but definitely not weak– and I liked the type of energy he had about him. It wasn't the same hyper energy my roommate had (no offense to him), but more the earnest energy of someone who truly cared about what was going on in the world. I was interested in him. Definitely. Not that I, uhh, size up everyone I meet like that. I was just thrown off-guard by those impossible eyes! You'll have to forgive me for the lack of detail regarding their conversation, though, because of what happened afterward.

Connie introduced the guy with the amazing eyes as Eren Jaeger as I approached the door, but our introduction was very brief. Eren apparently realized that Connie's other friend had yet to approach the doorway, and called after them as he stepped through the entrance. I don't know exactly how, but one of the coats hanging on the coat rack by the door somehow managed to fall onto Eren just as he started to move, and he shook it off in confusion before continuing. Yeah, we definitely still had some weird stuff going on, but that didn't compare to what happened next. The _instant_ the girl outside stepped through the doorway, the coat rack suddenly toppled over entirely, right on top of her! ... Or... it _would_ have toppled over, but halfway through, it... froze? Then it gently righted itself.

Three of us were completely shocked, while the new girl simply seemed very confused. “Umm...” she said, lifting her red scarf ( _A scarf? In this weather?_ I wondered) lightly to her mouth, prompting us all to look away from the rack to each other.

“What... what was that?” Eren's eyes bugged out.

“G-guys? Am I crazy, or doesn't gravity kind of... not work that way? At all?” Connie asked nervously, returning to staring at the piece of furniture, which was now surrounded by a scattering of coats we'd hung there a couple weeks ago. “Wait, what if that was the ghost?!” he gasped suddenly. “It's real!”

I rubbed my finger under my nose awkwardly. It's a nervous habit I'm trying to break, because I think it makes me look a bit silly. “Well... I don't know, Connie. It... probably just didn't fall fast enough, and the base was heavy enough to make it go back to its resting position?” I tried to make a statement, but my pitch gradually rose along the last part of it, so it came out as more of a question. That... didn't exactly inspire the confidence I'd hoped.

“... 'The ghost'?” the new girl asked inquisitively. She didn't seem skeptical, just intrigued. I finally got a good look at her as the shock wore off. Wow. Okay. Eren's plenty attractive, but this girl... To be honest, I tended to spot more guys than girls. But her... She had soft-looking black hair to her shoulders. Her eyes were so dark they nearly matched her hair, and were keen with intelligence, but seemed softened by kindness. She looked surprisingly physically strong as well, from the well-defined muscles lining her bare arms, exposed by her tank top. Her smooth skin enhanced the sharp lines of her face. God, those two made one hell of a pair. To say I was 'impressed' would be a massive understatement.

In fact, I think I must have actually been staring at them by accident – maybe even blushing – because Eren warned me off. “Hey, you, Marco, yeah? Stop eyeing up Mikasa. She's my sister, and anyway, she's off-limits.” He adopted a bit of a protective stance and stepped between us.

My eyes widened and I held my hands in front of myself to try to keep myself from making a bad impression, even if he _had_ just caught my attraction (but not only to his sister). “Oh, no, I swear, I wasn't–”

“Eren –” she pleaded, “– stop. It's – it's fine. He wasn't being rude about anything.” She paused. “... I can take care of myself if I do have a problem. You know that,” she said with a disappointed frown. She paused for a moment, then the corners of her eyes crinkled with amusement (she hid her mouth behind her scarf again, so the rest of her expression was obscured). “Besides, maybe he was just impressed by your eyes.”

Eren's eyebrows nearly shot off his face at her joke, and he stared incredulously at me. I rubbed my nose again, and now I _knew_ I was blushing. That was too spot-on. I swear I don't do this stuff with everyone I meet, you know, I just – look, have you seen those two? “I – uhh – it's – nice to meet you both! I'm just gonna... I – need to use the bathroom.” I fled down the hall to the bathroom to defuse the awkward situation as Connie began to explain about our haunted complex. As I calmed myself down, I decided to actually go ahead and use the bathroom, since I was in there anyway. Once I had washed my hands, I looked up at the mirror to make sure my face looked relaxed, but... I froze. On the mirror, written as if someone had breathed onto it, then used their finger to shape the letters, was...

“GET

HER #

        PLZ”

They had just barely squeezed in the 'PLZ' that extended just below the first line, because they'd evidently run out of room. _“Get_ _her_ _number”? Y_ _ou've got to be kidding me._ _D_ _on't tell me the ghost_ _is_ _seriously_ _trying to get me_ _to hit on_ _Mikasa_ _._ _... The ghost. The ghost?_ _The –? This seriously isn't a joke?_ _The ghost is real?_ How else could I explain this? The development was so surprising, for a while I just... stared at the letters, as the condensation cooled and they began to fade. _I_ _don't_ _..._ _Maybe_ _Connie coul_ _d'_ _ve been in here... no, not recently enough to have written this. Does this mean... A_ _ll that weird stuff this last month...?_ If the ghost were real, all the stuff I dismissed before really _was_ the ghost's fault. In that case... the ghost was kind of being an all-around jerk. And if it was watching, hadn't it heard Eren say Mikasa's off the market, too? So that's not cool, either. I frowned and thought. I would have been interested, obviously (too obviously), but I always respect people's relationships, and I didn't want to give the ghost the satisfaction... Then I had a devilish idea. _Know what?_ _You don't control me, ghost._ _I'm gonna_ _see about getting_ _somebody's_ _info_ _tonight, but it's_ _sure_ _not gonna be Mikasa's._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco gets to know Eren and Mikasa, and refuses to take the ghost's advice. Unsurprisingly, his incorporeal houseguest seems displeased.

As I left the bathroom, Eren lightly crossed his arms and looked down apologetically for a moment before meeting my eyes. “Hey, uh, sorry about that. Connie always talks about you being a real nice guy, so I shouldn't have gotten defensive. But I have kind of a short fuse when it comes to my family.” He smiled sheepishly at me. “Bad habit. I'm trying to break it, but...”

“Hey, no, it's okay, I understand. I shouldn't have been staring like that. I didn't actually realize I was. You guys just, uh, make an impressive pair! Both of you!” _Please, please take that as a compliment._ I wanted to explain myself without making things go back to awkwardness.

Mikasa took the compliment in stride. In fact, if my eyes did not mistake me, her eyes danced with amusement from the accuracy of her earlier comment toward her brother. Eren's eyebrows raised like they had before, but more slowly, as my meaning sank in. His cheeks became slightly pink, which was fine, but he squirmed awkwardly in embarrassment instead of just accepting the compliment. Ugh, that wasn't good. I was still dangerously close to making the wrong impression on the two of them. I think Connie caught on, too, because he gestured to the couch and chirped, “ _Well!_ You guys get settled on the couch, and I'll grab some drinks! Lemonade okay? It's summer, after all! Plus,” and here he puffed out his chest with pride, “it's homemade.”

Eren's face turned a bit sour at that, then became a wry smile, one I saw mirrored more softly on his sister's face. “Is that supposed to comfort us? Because the last time you made anything for us, it was kind of a disaster.”

Connie _appeared_ positively gobsmacked by his insinuation, but I thought he must have known the incident Eren was referring to. “I'm _hurt_ that you would claim such a thing. But don't worry, Marco's the one who made it for us!” Nobody seemed to complain about the choice of drink, so he navigated toward the kitchen as the two of them sat down.

I ducked my head slightly at Connie's claim. “I mostly just used a drink mix...” I admitted as I sat across from them, on the opposite end of the sofa. “I'm not THAT ambitious. But it's a really good one, I promise.”

Eren ran a hand over his face, grimacing, but it seemed like the earlier tension had flowed out of him. (Phew.) “In this weather, I'd even drink it if you just waved a lemon over the stuff.” Mikasa breathed out a laugh and nodded at his comment. “Our air conditioning has been on the fritz for a while, and Dad hasn't gotten it fixed, so lemonade sounds like heaven.” He fully relaxed into the couch, draping his arms along the back, while Mikasa crossed her legs over each other and loosely folded her hands over one knee.

“Oh, come to think of it, we need to ask what kind of food you guys want, too! There are lots of places around here, because the location's so good, and they all deliver. I've only had stuff from the Chinese place thus far, but it was great!” I tilted my head slightly, remembering. “I only got to have leftovers of it, so it's probably even better than I remember. It wasn't fresh after...” I trailed off, my face having dropped at the memory of my accident.

Eren cocked an eyebrow at that, and Mikasa blinked at me curiously. “After what?” she asked, "If, umm..." There was a wary note to her voice that made me sure I wouldn't have needed to continue if I were uncomfortable.

I waved her off lightly. “Oh, no, it's nothing serious! It's just, well...” Connie returned with our lemonade, and after quick discussion, we settled on Mexican food. And then I regaled them with The Tale of the Traitorous Table and my eventual recovery. Eren laughed with me at my misfortune, while Mikasa made sympathetic overtones. I finished my story around the time our food showed up (that Mexican joint turned out to be super quick).

Eren beamed at me as I finished my story. I promptly ignored the fact that this guy is like sunshine when he smiles. I mean, just _stop_ already _. That_ smile with _those_  eyes should be illegal! “I really feel you, dude! I can be awfully clumsy myself sometimes. Actually, Mikasa's always said it was a great thing I never got into chemistry, with how often I spill stuff.”

I sat forward in interest as I dug into my chimichanga, swallowing my previous bite before I wondered, “What _are_ you into, then? _Connie_ –” and here I gave him a pointed and _dis_ appointed stare – “didn't tell me much about you guys before inviting you over. So rude.” The guy in question made an impressively ugly sneer at my comment, but didn't openly protest.

Eren saw the look on Connie's face, and reflected it with a ridiculous face of his own that involved sticking out his tongue. It was priceless. “You don't get to complain.” Now he put on a petulant tone. “You didn't tell him about us?! And I thought we were friends!” His voice lost the false pained edge it had taken on, but kept the excitement as he turned back to me. Those eyes were sparkling like they had when Connie asked him about something earlier, and this time, they were trained directly on me in the (romantically?) dim light of our ceiling lamp. _Oh, come on, at least_ try _not to focus on that all night._ _Your little crush is getting ridiculous, Marco._ “I'm majoring in Poly Sci, and I really love learning how political systems work, but what I _really_ want to do once I get my degree is get into environmental activism.”

The sparkles in his eyes transformed, seemed to burst into flame, as he continued, “See, my dad's a chemist and a botanist, basically, right? He studies plants in order to find new medicines, and he's made a lot of money doing it. My dad helped my mom buy a little piece of land and plant this beautiful botanical garden on it, because she had a degree in ethnobotany, but between her health and raising Mikasa and me, she was never able to hold a steady job.” The light in his eyes dimmed, and he turned his face so he was looking beyond me. “She passed away when we were in high school, so Mikasa and I always kept up the garden ourselves – in her memory, you know? But then –” The fire returned to his eyes, burning as if it would lick along the arms of anyone who attempted to push back his anger. “– some of the plants on one side began to wilt too quickly. And then flowers wouldn't grow on the other one anymore. And that's when I realized it was these new factories that had sprung up around our garden.” His hands clenched around his plate so angrily his thumbs began turning white. “Not only do they belch their filth right into the air around it, there's actually a damn _creek_ of runoff from one of them that runs right along our flowerbeds. I tried to get the authorities involved, but they claimed it was within current legal limits. It just made me so mad... and that's why I want to change things. It's probably too late for us, but these companies need to be stopped.”

It was here that Mikasa, who had been quiet but following along intently, leaned forward and cut in. “And  _I'm_ specializing in environmental law. I want to help Eren with the legal side of the battle. He can find out what we need to change, I can help create legal documents to implement the change without leaving a lot of loopholes for scumbag CEOs, and Eren can help garner attention to make things actually happen.” She uncrossed then recrossed her legs, swapping their positions. “I think by the time I'm done with law school, Eren might be properly established in his field, so I'll be helpful immediately.”

I certainly hadn't been expecting any of this when I asked the question. I was dumbstruck but amazed by their convictions. (And I'll admit, the intensity of Eren's anger had made me slightly nervous for a moment, there.) “Wow, that's really strong of you both. I can see why you'd want to do things like that.” I scratched at my scalp. _Better than rubbing my nose._ “Well, it's nothing compared to what you guys are doing, but I just got my B.A. in Applied Linguistics, and I want to work for the government, probably as a translator. And that's what I've got a job doing right now. … Well, I've been in training, so I only start this week.”

Mikasa cocked her head curiously, but without judgement. “Why do you want to work for the government in particular?”

“I guess I've always wanted to help someone influential, you know? I never really thought I'd have a lot of influence myself, but at least I could help out someone who does. And I really admire a lot of our state's officials, so I would love to help them.” I rested a hand behind my head awkwardly. “And, well, the job security wouldn't hurt, either, you know.”

“True that,” Connie agreed, nodding sagely. “Heyyy, if everybody's done with their food for now, why don't we have Marco put everyone's leftovers in the fridge, and thennn we can get our game on?!” His voice rose gradually in volume and pitch as he finished his sentence on an excited note. I guess somewhere in the middle of our conversation, everybody had finished as much of their food as they were going to. Turns out that Mexican place had huge portions... not that surprising for Mexican food, I guess! (Connie had no problem chewing through his, though. Must be Sasha's influence.)

So, let me tell you a little something: I'm actually bad at video games, even though I do own them. In my defense, they aren't really my thing, so I don't play them too often. _Also_ in my defense, apparently I kick ass at any game where I can use one of those plastic guns (I think Connie called it a “light gun”, once?). I don't know why, because it's not like I have much interest in guns. Maybe I was a soldier or a bodyguard or a cop or something in a past life (I do love me some Dunkin' Donuts). So, long story short, I put the food away, and then I got completely destroyed by those three. I mean, I knew _Connie_ was pretty good at video games, because that's his hobby. But _Mikasa_ hadn't ever played the game before, she said... and yet, after a fifteen minute warmup mostly involving a few deaths from Connie (and one from Eren, but I'm not sure she didn't just let him believably take her out), she proceeded to wipe the floor with even _him._ I think Eren and I were pretty evenly matched, but once he made it his sole mission to hunt me down, I never lasted very long. Us three guys got into shoving matches after half of our deaths, but nobody dared shove Mikasa (she looked strong enough she could might shove any of us _through_ the couch in retaliation).

Winning's never mattered much to me, though, so I had a good night. As things wound down (Connie eventually gave up on the game after admitting he was never going to tie Mikasa), I gave Eren and Mikasa their leftovers, then walked them to the door. Mikasa had already made it out the door when I called out to Eren and tugged lightly on his arm. I figured it was probably okay because we had all been shoving each other all night, anyway, right? “Hey, Eren? Uhh, before you go...” He turned around, looking a bit surprised, but still very pleased after the great evening we'd had. I felt my hand move reflexively to hold my neck and my eyes move off to the side as I asked, “Hey, you know, after everything you said about that botanical garden... I think...” I looked up at him cautiously. “I think I'd really like to see that. I love flowers, and it sounds gorgeous, even if you guys have been having trouble. Do you maybe have a free day this week or next? You could show me around, and maybe I could treat you to lunch... if that's okay?” I asked hopefully.

He seemed touched, flushing a little and smiling softly. “Oh, wow, you'd wanna come see? That would be great. I should be free on Wednesday, if that's okay... umm...” When I nodded, he dug in his pockets for his phone, fumbling it on. “You want my number? You can just call me and we'll figure out what time we should meet up to catch the train over there.” Once we were done trading numbers, Mikasa gently reminded him that they needed to get going before the buses stopped running. He grinned in excitement. “All right, Wednesday, then!”

“It's a date!” I replied, nodding and grinning back just as widely.

His face morphed into a puzzled expression. “Do... do you mean, like, a _date_ date?” Apparently he hadn't caught my attempt to hint at a date with paying for lunch.

I started backpedaling, holding my hands out to assuage any concerns he might have. “Uhh! Not if you don't want it to be, I mean, we're really making the trip to see your garden! I just figured, you know, we could maybe have lunch afterward, 'cause... you seem like my kinda guy, friend or otherwise, but, I mean, maybe you're not into...” My emotional backpedaling was making me ramble on. I really didn't want to upset the guy the same day we met.

Eren had completely flushed by this point, but he didn't seem upset, at least. “I– sure– that's probably... Nobody ever asks me out, is all. Uh. Yeah! I guess it's a date, then?” The poor guy seemed pretty surprised (but excited, with any luck?) by this revelation. I hoped my relieved smile was comforting as Mikasa lightly tugged him away from the door, which I slowly closed behind him as we waved at each other.

Connie sidled up to me curiously. “You asked Eren out, huh? 'Eeeyyy, I didn't know you were the type to ask anyone out right away, Marco. Heh.” He rubbed his chin and gazed thoughtfully to the side for a few moments. Eventually he turned back to me and slapped me on the back. “Well, you two're both great dudes. I bet that'll work out juuust fine,” he assured me, gripping and shaking my shoulder in congratulations. _I guess normally I'm_ _really_ not _the type,_ _huh,_ I thought soon afterward, staring at the bathroom mirror after I finished brushing my teeth. _Guess I've got th_ _at_ _ghost to thank for the courage._ I fell into bed and drifted off immediately after the day's excitement.

* * *

When I woke up in the morning, I had a book resting on my face. I squinted as I held it up and clapped it closed. It was just some bland historical fiction I'd read once and never gotten rid of. I tried to piece things together as I rolled over and blinked the sleep from my eyes. _A book? I don't remember a book. I don't remember reading anything last night. I thought I fell asleep right away last night, after... Yeah, after_ _hanging_ _around_ _Eren and Mikasa_ _all evening_ _. That was a really nice night. I'd better thank Connie for introducing me!_ I sat up and started walking groggily over to return the book to my bookshelf, turning it over in my hand. _When did I grab this, though? Am I sleepwalking again? I haven't done that since I was nine._ It was only when I finally looked up at the shelves that I realized.

It started as just a bit of giggling. (Yes, I giggle, okay? I'll be the first to admit it. Shh. People tell me it's cute.) Then I wrapped my arms around myself and laughed. I nearly dropped my book as I doubled over, clutching my sides from hysterical laughter. It was too much! I couldn't believe how childish this was! The ghost had actually _rearranged my entire bookshelf_ to create a slightly lopsided frowny face. It must have placed the last book directly upon my face to make sure I would admire its handiwork.

“This is too much!” I exclaimed aloud as the spasms of laughter were subsiding. I felt a little silly for a moment, because there didn't seem to be anyone in the room... But I figured if this were the ghost's handiwork, it must have stuck around to make sure I saw it. So I wasn't talking to myself, I was talking to it now. ( _“_ _It_ _”_ _? I guess I should at least call it “them” now, if I'm gonna start talking to them.)_ “Okay, okay, jeez, I'm sorry I didn't go along with your little plan!” I said apologetically, but then I paused for a moment. Leaning down to add my book to their masterpiece, I tried to make the frown less lopsided. “... Although, if I had known you were going to be this ridiculous about it, I gotta say, I would've been even _more_ tempted to do it.” A single book, lightweight, but with a sharp corner to it, hit the top of my shoulder just so, causing my arm to jump and knock over the entire mouth of the frown. “Aww! We broke its mouth! Poor thing.”

I pouted a little at our loss, but then I had to grin. I was right! The ghost must have been watching me just now! And if they were spending this much time on something so pointless... I thought back to my words to Hanji when we were considering this place. _“I'm sure the ghost just wants friends.”_ What if they were actually just a lonely ghost, like I had joked about? I had been kinda mad at them for messing with Connie and me, but maybe they just... I don't know... wanted us to leave? Or maybe they were restless? _Maybe they're just bad with people,_ I thought, staring at their ruined handiwork. _It's the sort of thing an elementary-schooler would do, really._ I actually wondered for a moment, as that thought crossed my mind, whether the ghost could actually be that young. But then I thought about the fact that they'd put the book on my face to lead me to the bookshelf... and the high shelf they'd just dropped the book from, and... oh, yeah, telling me to ask Mikasa out last night. I rolled my eyes. _Scratch that. Maybe they're a middle-schooler._

I stuck the ghost's book back on a random shelf and stood back up, resolving to deal with the disaster we'd created in the evening. “Okay, Lonely Ghost. So first of all, since you've been doing this kind of stuff, I'm guessing you can't talk to us, right?” No response came. “Right. I'm going to take that as a 'no'.” I looked around the room, continuing, “And we've already established that you can move things... Aha!” I opened my laptop on my office chair, lightly pressing the power button, and set it atop my desk. It was pretty old, so it didn't have one of those “newfangled” SSDs and would take a while to boot. I turned around, addressing the empty room (really, this felt ridiculous, but nobody could make fun of me in my own room). “Okay, I'm gonna go fix myself some breakfast, and you can go open up Word... um... no... something Office... it's on my desktop. My friend Bertl said it was better than Word,” I mumbled, covering my mouth for a moment. “Anyway, I'll grab us some food, and while I do that, you can, um, type on there and introduce yourself! You know, tell me your name, uhh. Whether I should say you're a 'he' or a 'she' or a 'they' or... since we're going to be talking and all. You know,” I rambled, starting to rub under my nose nervously before I caught myself. “I'll be back!”

I wandered into the kitchen and was pleased to find dishes in the sink. Well, no, I wasn't pleased that Connie had left his dishes in the sink, not the dishwasher, like I keep _telling_ him to do, because _it's right next to the sink, come on,_ _please?_ But I _was_ pleased that Connie had already gotten up, because he only beat me to it when he had a morning shift at Potatoes 'n' Things. That meant I could do something ridiculous like make breakfast for a ghost that I planned to talk to, aloud, in my room, for an hour or two... _without_ any chance of Connie thinking I was crazy. Although, the way he acted about the coat rack last night... maybe he'd believe me. But he'd also probably have told me we were moving out immediately, because he's afraid of the ghost. I was _not_ moving again any time soon after the TV disaster!

After pacing around the kitchen for a bit, I awkwardly made an attempt at waffles, eggs, and bacon, because I wanted to try to be a gracious host. I'm no cook, but, I mean, that stuff isn't too hard, right? I managed to only slightly burn one waffle (which I took for myself) from the toaster being set too high. I call that a win. Once I finished, I surveyed the kitchen for condiments, and found out that we had jam, ketchup (some people like that on their eggs?), salt, and pepper. Good enough! I seasoned my own food, then took all the condiments to my room with the ghost's plate before following with my own plate, then a glass of orange juice for myself and just some water for the ghost. I stuck the ghost's stuff on my desk next to the laptop, left the condiments on the floor (since I kind of ran out of space), and sat on my bed with my food.

“Okay! There you go! I made you some, too! So, did you type anything?” I looked at my laptop, only to find... nothing. The ghost hadn't opened a word processor or anything. “Oh! Umm. Okay, maybe you couldn't find the program. Or. Maybe you don't know how to use a computer?” I blanched slightly. What if they're from, like, the 1800s, or something? They might not even know what a computer is! I think I read a book like that once! Shoot. I didn't have any clean paper lying around right now, though, so I just opened my word processor for the ghost. “There you go! You can type the letters... see? This is the _keyboard,_ ” I said, pointedly, in case the ghost didn't know, and I demonstrated by typing “hello” myself. “You can talk to me, or you can eat, or whatever, and I'll just eat my breakfast over here. If you type something, we can talk, though! Heh,” I beamed, a bit self-consciously.

Well, fifteen, twenty minutes went by with me just eating awkwardly by myself, with everything untouched. The screen on the laptop went to sleep because no one had touched it in a while. Great. Didn't I just feel ridiculous? They're a ghost. They probably can't even eat or drink, anyway. And... sheesh, I thought the ghost wanted to talk to me, but I guessed I was wrong. I was starting to deflate a bit, maybe even think my efforts were pointless, but then I remembered about the lack of paper and I relaxed a little. Maybe they just couldn't use the computer for some reason? I sure don't know how ghosts work. I mean, the most paranormal thing that happened to me before last night was thinking I saw something black reaching down from the ceiling one time when I fell asleep taking a bath back home. I'm pretty sure that was a dream and not anything supernatural, though.

Anyway, I reached toward the untouched plate. “Hey, um, I'm gonna eat the rest of that bacon, 'cause I don't know if it reheats well, okay? And I'll put the rest in the fridge. It didn't seem like you wanted any, so...” I grabbed a handful of slices to set on my plate and accidentally tapped the spacebar with my elbow on the way back, waking the laptop from sleep. Oh well. I took one slice to munch on as I started shuttling bottles and shakers and plates and glasses to the kitchen. I shoved the dirty dishes in the dishwasher (Connie's included), covered the remaining food to shove in the fridge, and put the rest where it needed to go, then went back to my room. I had to grab my keys and backpack to do some shopping that _might_ have included picking up a physical notepad. Just in case. But when I reached for my keys behind my laptop, I noticed something on the screen.

Just a couple short words, all on one line, minimal punctuation and capitalization. “Jean. not jeen. he.” But the cursor wasn't blinking at the end of that. A couple lines down, there was one other word. “thanks”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you ever read anything in this series and think "Is that a reference to . . . ?", I can assure you that yes. Yes it is.
> 
>  **Those of you interested in the Springboard (Reiner/Connie) side of the fic,** that's still happening! Subscribe to me or the series to be notified when it appears.

**Author's Note:**

> All Kudos, comments, bookmarks, etc. will be appreciated! Please tell me if there's something you particularly liked! My Tumblr is [la-la-la-laurel.tumblr.com](http://la-la-la-laurel.tumblr.com/), and I'll be tracking the tags "lalalalaurel" (Tumblr handles hyphens poorly), "fic: we feel you", and "the feel series". I'd love to talk to you!


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